That Sly, Summer Wind
by Semirhage
Summary: Draco wakes up one morning to the wind beating at his window. When he looks upon his lawn, what does he see but a familiar red-haired figure? [Slash, DracoRon, WIP]
1. Chapter One

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Title:** That Sly, Summer Wind (1/?) 

**Author:** Semirhage )

**Rating:** R for...well, you'll see

**Warnings:** SLASH! Woohoo! And...Draco, since we all know he needs his own warning. =P

**Spoilers:** All five books

**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley

**Disclaimer:** You know I don't own them, because if I did DM/RW and SS/HP would be canon. eg

**Summary:** Draco wakes up one morning to the wind beating at his window. When he looks upon his lawn, what does he see but a familiar red-haired figure? [Slash, DracoRon]

**Author's Notes:** Basically, this chapter is just setting up for heaps of information in the NEXT one, so if I've left some things unresolved, point them out in a nice review. You never know when I'll forget something. ::winks:: And hopefully by the third we'll be seeing some _good_ Draco/Ron yumminess. I'm hoping to make this a three-chapter story, but that might not happen.

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The summer of Draco's eighteenth year, a sly wind danced to the window of his bedroom at Malfoy Estate and ruffled the curtains. The cool breeze lapped at his face, not offering a moment of respite until his eyes sleepily opened to reveal hazy grey orbs. They looked at the window where the sun had just peeked above the horizon, then glanced at his clock, the bright numbers stating that the sixth hour had not quite arrived. Sighing, Draco swung his legs over the side of the bed then stalked to the window, shivering at the rush of cool air to his chest. His eyes roamed the expanse of land, some woods, some meadows; from his room on the third story, he had a picturesque view of the land that he owned - a beautiful, vast amount that had passed to him after everything had been cleared with the Ministry. His fingers had just latched the window shut when he noticed something - something that absolutely did not belong on his lawn. Curled by a great oak was a small, red-haired figure. He scowled, pulled a Slytherin-green jumper over his head, and threw the black and green cloak hanging on a nearby peg over his shoulders before stomping from his room to see what manner of intruder he was forced to deal with.

After descending the two flights of stairs, Draco took the direct path - through the ill-lit hallways that were still in the process of being cleaned up. He winced when he stepped on some rather large object, a sharp reminder that he had effectively forgotten any footwear. Making a mental note to have Eakley clean the hall leading to one of the mansion's numerous side doors in the near present, he found himself wishing that he had hired someone to keep a watch for situations such as this one. He had decided to forgo the possibility, mainly because the charms he had set around the building were more than sufficient, especially since the war was over. When he realised that the intruder was probably some ignorant Muggle, Draco sighed and stepped into the entrance from the door. Immediately, he was grateful that he had ordered all entrance foyers to be cleaned, despite how small or infrequently used they were.

He threw the door open and headed towards the oak and red-haired figure, snarling at the idiot who had decided to use _his_ lawn for a bed. Now that he was at ground level with it, Draco realised it was not as small as he had previously thought. The short, messy hair and curveless figure stated the intruder was obviously male. Gaze not wavering, Draco slowed his gait and reached into his pocket for his wand - and cursed vehemently when he realised he had left it on the bedstand in his room.

Still, if this was a Muggle, he should not have to worry about wands. If there was a problem, though... Draco took great pride in being Slytherin, and the serpent house had always been noted for its cunning. Getting caught wandless - therefore defenseless - would be akin to going against everything he had stood for as a Slytherin.

Draco had just turned around to head back inside when a whimper caught his attention. His feet moved instantly, and he found himself gazing once more at the figure. Brilliant red hair sparkled in the early morning light, falling across a pale and freckled forehead. The boy's face was indiscernible in the shadows, but Draco caught sight of a slender hand clutching desperately the fabric of old and used pants. He was curled into a fetal position, his knees nearly touching his chest; from his perspective, Draco caught glimpses of mud stains on the otherwise plain ensemble.

_He's...beautiful._ Draco's throat constricted and his eyes widened slightly. He had not had a lover since Christmas when he had gotten into an argument with Blaise Zabini, in which both had thrown insults that were irreparable. Maybe he could keep the boy around...just for a little while...

Suddenly, Draco realised the figure was shivering and remembered rain had poured from the sky nearly all night long. "Idiot," he muttered as he walked towards the sleeping boy. _What kind of moron would collapse outside in the middle of a storm?_ Allowing a beautiful boy into his house was fine, saddling himself with a sneezy, burdensome idiot was quite the opposite.

Deciding to figure out what to do with him later, Draco knelt by the boy and shook his shoulder gently. Instantly, he froze as warmth spread through his fingertips despite the layer of clothing separating him from the other boy. The last human contact he had experienced had been a brief handshake with Potter at the end of seventh year. Now he regretted it, realising the sad state of his sex life as his body began to react as a result of that one simple touch.

_I'll have to get the manor magic-free, which means the house-elves will have to know to stay away._ The idea of being with this boy was not so bad, as long as it did not get him into any trouble. With the Ministry hanging over him constantly, nobody was worth trouble, especially since both his mother and father were buried in the ground...somewhere. But...he supposed he could spare a bed.

"Ugh," the boy moaned. It was barely a whisper, but enough to freeze Draco: body _and_ thoughts. As if in slow motion, he saw the boy stir, his head moving. The shadows fled from his face, revealing a wide-eyed look so familiar to Draco he could recall many instances he had seen it. Time seemed to stall as he tried to convince himself there could be someone else with that exact long nose, those blazing blue eyes, that stubborn chin - all of which fit together to form the one person he had ridiculed the entire seven years he had spent at Hogwarts. "Oh, nooo," Weasley moaned, head falling into his palms. He shook his head slightly, as if doing that would change the person kneeling beside him.

Pulling his hand back as if it had been burned, Draco leveled Weasley with an annoyed glare. "I thought I was going to have to deal with an ignorant Muggle and what I find is a Weasley," he drawled as he stood, folding his arms across his chest. "What are you doing at my estate, Weasley?"

Wincing, Weasley muttered something Draco could not hear. When he turned his face towards the blonde, his lips were compressed and eyebrows knit in determination. "That is none of your business, Malfoy," he answered heatedly, voice clipped. He was not able to keep his composure for more than a few seconds, for a cough racked his body. He sat and clutched his sides, eyes tightly shut in pain.

_Sneezy, burdensome idiot,_ Draco thought sourly as he grabbed one of the red-haired boy's arms and hauled him to his feet. "Come on," he said, staring dispassionately at the boy. The only answer he received was a wary glance and a refusal to budge. Draco sighed. "I don't plan on killing you, you idiot, merely on giving you something so you don't continue to infest my property with your sneezing."

Upon hearing Draco's words, the red-haired boy's face paled, yet his ears turned the deepest shade of scarlet. Draco sniggered as the boy sought to regain the calm he had doubly lost. "Well?" he asked, lazily raising an eyebrow. "Are you going to stand there all morning or follow me?" Weasley's mouth opened and closed, causing the blonde to wonder how, if just for a few moments, he had found the redhead beautiful. He had just gotten out of bed, after all. Draco supposed he could find even Snape attractive in that state of mind. For a few seconds, he let his mind wander to what his old Potions professor might be doing this time of the year. _Probably enjoying some time away from Hogwarts and students...enjoying the luxury of his home for the first time in years. _

"Fine, Malfoy," Weasley muttered, tone surly. He hesitated, twisting the hem of his dirty, torn shirt around his finger. Sighing, he pushed himself from the ground and stood somewhat unsteadily on his feet. His eyes darted from Draco to the surroundings, then back to Draco.

_It's almost as if he's expecting some Death Eater to jump from behind a tree. Same Weasley. Not even my helping the damn Order of the Phoenix can alter his suspicions of me. He probably won't be satisfied until I'm incarcerated for attempting to become the next Dark Lord. At least I don't have to worry about him acting strange around me, worrying about how to thank me for helping win the final battle._ With the Ministry still hawking his every move, though, Draco was not sure how long he would be able to stand Weasley if he started poking his nose around suspiciously. _You'd think after trashing this place to near ruins, they'd be satisfied with the results that nothing remains lurking in some hidden chamber._ He could still remember arriving home after the war's end to find the Malfoy Estate, once proud and grand, ransacked and sinking into desolation. So much of the furniture had been destroyed, many things Draco was willing to swear had _nothing_ to do with the Dark Arts had disappeared and had not yet been found, including his Mother's favourite pair of sapphire and diamond earrings. Not that he would ever use any of it, but the careless attitude of the Ministry snapped at his pride - his family's pride, his _Mother's_ pride. As soon as possible, he had started renovating the once majestic building, but still parts were in the process of being repaired. The back of the building had scorch marks from an uncontrolled flame, but that was fixable. Draco just had not had the time yet. And there were some parts of the house that he was afraid to even peek at, afraid of the memories the rooms would evoke, afraid of the emotions that would surge through his body at seeing what destruction had been forced upon them...

"Malfoy?" Weasley asked hesitantly, taking a cautious step forward. His eyes were clouded with suspicion, and uncertainty leaked from him so strong that Draco held up a hand to stop his advance. The red-haired boy paused, chewing at his lower lip.

"Let's just get this over with," Draco stated coolly. A nasty glare replaced the indecision on Weasley's face as a result of his coldness. "I'll allow you to use my floo to contact your family. I will also have breakfast prepared for you and find you a change of clothes as well." _There, Minister. See if that isn't more hospitable than you've treated some of your guests. _

"There's no need," Weasley replied stiffly. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, and he looked as if he really wanted to punch something. Draco was willing to bet twenty galleons that something was him.

Shrugging in response, the blonde led the way to the door he had exited through. "I really hope you don't mind me showing you in through the side door, Weasley," he drawled. "The truth is, I like to reserve the grand entrance and main foyer for important guests. I'm sure you understand." He could almost hear Weasley growling behind him. "You _should_ feel honoured. I could have sent you in through the servants' door with the clothes _you're_ wearing."

Weasley muttered something and Draco strained to hear what he was saying. "...luck, I stop by bloody Malfoy's bloody mansion." He did not sound pleased at all by his current situation; in fact, his voice was laced with sour anger - probably at being insulted so many times in one setting.

Rolling his eyes, Draco opened the door and held it with one hand while Weasley walked through the doorway. He watched, amused, as the boy's expression changed from anger to openmouthed admiration. "Like what you see, Weasel?" he asked, shutting the door and finding himself right behind the redhead - so close, he could smell faint traces of grass and mud emanating from the other boy. He reached his hand towards the red hair, but Weasley seemed to noticed their situation as well, and jumped away as if stung by Draco's closeness.

"Not really, Malfoy," he snapped, an angry glare present on his face when he turned to face Draco. His blue eyes burned with such passion - angry, sapphire fire. Still, after everything that had happened, Draco could still produce such violent, heated emotions in the other boy. He would have enjoyed the situation much more, were the boy anyone but Weasley. Plain Weasley; but at least he never became boring with his quick temper and not-quite-so-mild tongue.

"Follow me, then," Draco ordered in a tone just arrogant enough to cause Weasley's ears to flame again. _Wonderful,_ he thought, _how some people are so dense they can't see through words and decipher meanings for themselves. Not that I really care how ignorant Weasley is. I rather like having him believe whatever I decide I want him to._ Lips twisting into a smug smirk, Draco led the fuming boy to the informal dining room - he was tempted to take him to the kitchen instead, but that would be lowering _himself_ since he had plans to eat as well. After he found the reason behind the redhead's nightly excursion.

As he led the way into the dining room, he heard a gasp. Draco rolled his eyes. "It's obvious to me now why nobody from your family is invited to any of the major wizarding balls. Your gaping is simply hideous. You remind me of a fish, except you aren't edible." _Not in the traditional way, however I'm sure I could find alternate means of devouring you._ That thought disturbed Draco, the sudden wince making him glad he was facing away from the other boy.

Weasley's mouth shut with an audible snap, informing Draco that he was right in assuming the boy was gaping again. "We have been invited," the redhead quipped. "It's just that none of us want to waste an evening with snotty prats."

"Actually, Weasley," Draco said, pivoting smoothly on his heels to face the red-haired boy, "I'd say it's _you_ that's snotty." He allowed himself a brief moment to gloat as Weasley's face turned a pale shade of red. Draco affected a bored sigh. "Now, if you'll stop stalling, we can get this over with. First, you can take a seat while I get a potion for you."

"I'd rather stand," Weasley informed the blonde stiffly. His back was straight - to the point of appearing extremely uncomfortable - as he stared Draco in the eyes tenaciously.

Shaking his head, Draco motioned in the general direction of the table with a hand. "I am, in a way, your host, Weasley. It would be wrong of me to not offer you a place to sit while you eat breakfast."

"Right," Weasley spat. "So you think insulting me _is_? What kind of host do you fancy yourself to be, anyway? I wouldn't let you be one for me if you paid me to."

Draco laughed. "You should. You really need it." His eyes narrowed as his gaze traveled down Weasley's body, then back up to his face. In addition to the random grass and mud stains, his clothing sported numerous rips. "From the look of your clothing, the war hasn't been very good for your family. Maybe you should consider alternate means of income. ... I hear many wizards pay galleons for nightly entertainment. I'm not saying you'd get great pay to start, but you-"

A resounding slap burned in Draco's ears, and one side of his face was completely numb. Weasley's face was mere inches from his own, his hand still upraised. "How _dare_ you suggest that I-" He stopped, body shaking in unbridled anger.

Roughly, Draco grabbed the hand that had hit him and tangled his free fingers in the hair at the back of Weasley's head. "Damn you, Weasley," he spat as he crushed his mouth against the other boy's. Weasley froze, obviously not expecting that to happen - Draco was not either.

In those moments, the blonde fought the tidal wave of emotions crashing through his body, threatening to overcome his control. His face, where it had been hit, was tingling - only, it was not the only part of his body in that state. When the blonde swept his tongue across the dry lips, moistening them, blue eyes flashed. Weasley pushed at Draco with his free hand, only to be backed up until he was pressed against the wall.

Draco felt his eyes closing against his own volition as Weasley's hand grasped at his cloak, slipped under his jumper; it was cold against the heated flesh of Draco's chest. Despite the furtive fingers, the boy's chapped lips remained still to Draco's advanced. A finger slipped against one of Draco's nipples, causing him to sink his teeth into Weasley's lower lip, procuring a startled gasp and an opening for Draco to slip through.

In an instant, he was _inside_. Time stopped as liquid fire roared through his veins. A shy, yet equally needy tongue met his headlong, and this time, Draco's eyes were the ones shooting open in surprise. A dance for dominance ensued as the blonde released the redhead's hand and melded their bodies together. Their hips met, creating a friction that left Draco dizzy and in need of breath.

_Fire. Need. Hot._ Draco's eyes drifted shut as he tilted his head for a better angle to raid Weasley's mouth. The other boy whimpered as he swept along his moist caverns. He tasted, Draco decided, of chocolate and mint, a not altogether unpleasant taste. The blonde-haired boy could feel Weasley forming his name against his lips, again and again. It was a plea - a desperate plea for more. He crushed them closer, knowing there would be bruises, but not caring. Nothing mattered but fulfilling his need; it was consuming. Then Weasley's teeth raked smoothly across his tongue and -

"Malfoy!" His shoulder was shaking - no, being shaken. Very roughly. Annoyed blue eyes were staring at him when he came back to the immediate with an uncharacteristic start. "You were suggesting me finding another job, then you sorta zoned out." From the look Weasley was giving him, it was obvious who _he_ thought was sick.

"Sod off, Weasley," Draco sneered, pushing the boy away. "Sit down and _wait_ while I get that potion." Without waiting for a response, he stalked from the room and stopped to think only when he was far enough away for Weasley to not have the option of spying on him. Hopefully, his lack of knowledge of the mansion would keep him from wandering...

Sighing, Draco rubbed his temple. He had had a fantasy about Weasley, and worse, had it in front of the sodding idiot. A fantasy! _Maybe I am sick,_ he lamented. _Why would I want to do something like that with Weasley otherwise? Must be because I haven't had sexual contact with another guy in so long...maybe I should find myself some company...besides the Weasel. _

"Is Master fine?" a hesitant voice asked. A pair of luminous eyes gazed at him, emitting embarrassing loyalty. Those eyes belonged to Eakley, a house-elf Draco had 'rescued' - as the house-elf saw it; Draco himself sometimes regretted taking the annoying thing back from the Ministry.

"Yes. There's a boy in the small dining room. He needs a potion for a cold - see that he gets the proper amount. Tell him that I'll be back shortly and not to move. And have breakfast for two prepared - have it sent to the dining room. Understand?" After making positive Eakley knew exactly what was expected of him, Draco returned to his room. He needed to change his clothes, brush his hair, clean his teeth, and get his wand. Then he would deal with Weasley.

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Fin Part One

Reviews motivate me to write faster...reviews are shiny. Shiny, no da? ::plugs to Ryuichi::


	2. Chapter Two

**Title:** That Sly, Summer Wind (2/?)

**Author:** Semirhage

**Rating:** R for sexual situations

**Warnings:** SLASH! Woohoo! And...Draco, since we all know he needs his own warning. =P

**Spoilers:** All five books...just to be safe

**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley

**Disclaimer:** You know I don't own them, because if I did DM/RW and SS/HP would be canon. eg

**Summary:** Draco wakes up one morning to the wind beating at his window. When he looks upon his lawn, what does he see but a familiar red-haired figure? [Slash, DracoRon]

**Author's Notes:** Well, I didn't get to the kissing scene here like I intended. But I do plan on making up for it. Promise! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers at and Forever Fandom! Sorry to say that Ron's situation isn't explained here (not truthfully, anyhow) - but _why_ would he tell Draco that, anyway? Gotta work up his emotions first! And I'm also surprised nobody said anything about Draco's parents. ::pout:: Does Lucius mean so little that nobody wants to question me about how he died? =P

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Draco approached the dining room with a false step of confidence. He would feel much better if he had taken a long, relaxing bath; instead, he had muttered a cleaning charm that did nothing to soothe his nerves. He had opted to wear a plain, pale green robe - as plain as he possessed, anyway. The embroidery around the cuffs was a sparkling silver, but it was minimal. Hopefully, he would manage to coax a reason out of Weasley quicker this way. Since he had been away from the redhead, he had been able to ponder everything. Why would Weasley be sleeping in his yard, anyway? From what he had heard, the Weasleys were not so low on resources that they would kick their own son from the house...the 'Burrow'. 

Pausing for a moment against the wall by the door, Draco ran his hands down the sides of the thin material of his robe, collecting his wits. He had learned that, when dealing with a Weasley, one must remain at his utmost calm, for a Weasley's quick-fire temper was sure to seduce any ill-prepared man to quick, thoughtless actions. After a few deep breaths, he rounded the corner, walking through the open doorway.

His eyes darted across the room, noting the walls and the elegant, sloping ceiling were still in place. After scanning the room for any misplaced objects, Draco let his attention focus on the boy currently seated at his table. One long, pale finger was tracing the designs on the edge of the table, seemingly mesmerising the boy himself. Stray, dirty strands of hair fell erratically across the freckled forehead and intent blue eyes pointedly did _not_ look Draco's way.

In a rush, all his earlier feelings and thoughts returned to his mind. Leading them was the colossal admittance that Weasley did have a certain charm about him - maybe it was not exactly beauty, but he was attractive in a way Draco had never allowed himself to realise before. Why should he desire a Weasley? They were ungainly, boisterous creatures...and he certainly would not ever be able to take the boy anywhere in public. _That_ was a humourous thought, though. What would the wizarding world have to say about it? Ronald Weasley, sidekick and best mate of Harry Potter, amazing and exalted champion of the wizarding world, involved with Draco Malfoy, who helped the precious _Order_ but must have been working for You-Know-Who all along because all Slytherins and especially Malfoys are evil. Evil, evil.

"Why are you staring at me?" a quiet, yet demanding voice asked. Weasley was still staring at the table, though his fingers had stopped following the lines and were instead tightened into fists.

"Weren't you taught proper table etiquette?" Draco quipped. "Of course, I must have forgotten of whom I am speaking. You are still a Weasley, aren't you? Your parents didn't kick you out?"

Weasley jumped, knocking the high-backed chair to the floor and ramming his side into the edge of the table. He winced, placing a hand over his ribs that just _had_ to be aching. The boy gulped, visibly trying to control himself. "Just...forget it, okay Malfoy? Look...I am sorry. I didn't want to wake up and have to deal with a prat I had wanted to forget, much less end up in his house. So just...leave me alone. I'll even eat breakfast if you insist on it."

_Great. Defensive Weasley, willing to sacrifice himself to keep his secrets secret._ Draco knew all too well that feeling. He had plenty secrets that he had no immediate desire to share with anybody, some he wished that even he did not know. Perhaps he _should_ be sympathetic and pat Weasley on the back and tell him everything would be just fine. Would he? Of course not. "Unless you cast _Obliviate_ on me, Weasley, I can't forget. But since you are here, you did fall asleep on my property, and I did rescue you in the early morning hours, you owe me some explanation. Speak up, because _I_, unlike some people, don't have all day to roam about aimlessly." Weasley's face had brightened to a crimson hue when he had used the term 'rescued'; by the time Draco had finished speaking, his lips were compressed in restrained ire.

"You didn't _rescue_ me, Malfoy!" he spat, taking a step towards the blonde and raising his fist defiantly - or perhaps threateningly.

"Oh? Then what would you call it? Waking you up when someone could have come along and taken you? This is my property, after all. There's really no telling who might suddenly apparate here. Maybe the reincarnation of Voldemort? A multitude of Death Eaters? Or maybe I'm just keeping you here while I wait for them to arrive." From the way his eyebrows knitted together, Weasley obviously did not think anything Draco had just mentioned would be unlikely at all. Draco clenched his fists; no matter how hard he tried or what he did, he would never live past the suspicious eyes and wary glances.

"I wouldn't put it past you, Malfoy," the redhead spat, glaring down at him.

Yes, down.

A sad trick of fate had made Weasley taller than Draco - sneering up really did not have as much of an impact as sneering combined with a few extra inches. That was one reason Draco envied Severus Snape: he loomed over students - some had even talked about wetting themselves. Now, _really_. What imbeciles.

"I can see there is nothing I can do to convince you that I am not keeping you here to do something utterly evil to you," Draco drawled. _Well, in a manner of speaking...but I would love to humiliate you some more._ "So why don't we just get this over with. Tell me what the hell you were doing, and I will let you go."

"Oh, so now I'm a prisoner?" Weasley asked, mouth curling into a snarl.

"Don't be so daft, Weasel," Draco replied. "Why ever would I want to hold you prisoner?"

"Maybe so you could get to Harry." That statement was accompanied by a very obvious glare.

"Yes, he is rather more attractive than you, isn't he?" Draco asked lazily.

Weasley blinked, mouth opening in surprise. Priceless.

"Here you go again - Weasley, _do_ tell me. Your ancestors didn't happen to mate with a fish at any point in time, did they? Because the resemblance between you and the one in my fish tank is absolutely uncanny. Maybe you're related! I could introduce you two - a family reunion, how pleasant."

Instead of replying to the insult, Weasley asked, "You have fish?"

"No, Weasley, I just keep an empty tank full of water," Draco replied sarcastically. "Yes, I have fish."

Obviously, that was not the right kind of pet for an evil Malfoy and Slytherin, for Weasley shook his head. "The surprises will never end," he muttered.

"Actually, I keep them for whenever I get into a particularly nasty mood," Draco stated with a completely straight face. "It keeps me from torturing the house elves."

For a few moments, Weasley stared at him before muttering something Draco could not hear, then, "Fish and torture...what an unlikely combination." A lopsided grin crossed his face, then he said, "You weren't being serious, were you?"

"Am I ever?" Draco drawled. Amazing...they were actually talking without taunting. _Wonder how long this will last..._

"I don't know. Are you?" A small, hesitant smile replaced the brief grin on Weasley's face.

Resisting the urge to smirk, Draco motioned towards the table. "I'm sure breakfast will be in shortly. Are you _sure_ you don't want to eat anything?"

"Well, I suppose I could...just this once. If you didn't poison me with the potion, I suppose you wouldn't put something in my breakfast," Weasley announced.

"How can you be so certain? It might just be a slow-acting poison so you'll die after you've left my mansion." In response, Weasley rolled his eyes then set the chair he had knocked over back on its feet. "You should be thankful that didn't break. It alone probably costs almost as much as your entire house," Draco muttered as he sat opposite the redhead.

"Then I guess I wouldn't be paying to replace it, would I?" Weasley snapped as he slumped into his chair.

"In that case, you'd have to start working for me. I'm sure I could find some jobs for you to do around here." _Several that immediately spring to mind...only the most dirty, disgusting jobs for a Weasley. Then there are several alternatives that bring about a completely different kind of dirty..._

Weasley glared but surprisingly did not open his mouth. Smirking, Draco wondered if he was trying to prove him wrong about the whole fish debate.

A pop crackled the air and Draco looked to his left to see Eakley bearing a tray full of different kinds of breakfast foods and some that were not meant for breakfast. "Eakley made Master's favourites," the house-elf said proudly as he set the dishes on the table before Ron and Draco. "Is Master needing anything else?"

"No. You may leave," Draco responded. Another _pop_, and the creature was gone. When he glanced back at Weasley, the boy was frowning at him while digging his teeth into his lower lip. "Sickle for your thoughts?" he queried curiously.

"Just...I don't know...expected something different, that's all."

"Very eloquent, Weasley."

Another glare, then the redhead turned to the food placed before him. He prodded a few things with his fork, making a face. Hesitantly, he took a sniff, then prodded it again.

Rolling his eyes, Draco took a bite of his own food. When he glanced back at Weasley and saw he was still not eating, he snapped, "It's not going to bite you!"

"But, it's...it's...yucky looking."

Oh, so verbose. "Escargot is not _yucky looking_, as you so expertly call it."

"That's _escargot_?" Weasley asked, making a disgusted face. "You eat that with breakfast? Eww, isn't that like...snails or something?"

"Honestly, Weasley," Draco sighed. "You have absolutely no taste. Escargot is one of the finer points in life. And no, I don't usually divulge during breakfast, but that damn house-elf decided I was going to this morning."

"Oh," the redhead said, still eyeing the delicacy warily...as if it was going to jump at him.

Draco picked a piece between two of his fingers and extended it across the table. "Try it," he offered.

"Nnn-o." Flat refusal.

Sighing, Draco stood and leaned across the table, pressing the food against the stubbornly clamped mouth. "Just try it."

More caution, then Weasley slowly opened his mouth, eyes glued to Draco's face. He leaned forward slightly, catching the food between his teeth - consequently, the two extended fingers as well. Draco hissed quietly when he felt a tongue slip between his digits and loosen the escargot from his grip. He slowly pulled his fingers from the wetness of the boy's mouth, but allowed them to linger nearby.

Weasley swallowed, then licked his lips as though trying to decide whether he liked it or did not. "It was...different," he finally said, looking at Draco's fingers. "Malfoy, I..."

Scowling, Draco retrieved his fingers and rested them in his lap. "Why did you decide to come _here_ instead of visiting Potter or Granger?" he prodded. No, he was not going to give up. Not until he had an answer he was satisfied with. And a change of conversation was nice.

"I couldn't, okay? I couldn't go to Harry or Hermione..."

Arching an eyebrow, Draco impaled a piece of bacon on his fork and delicately raised it to his mouth. "Oh?" he asked before taking a bite. After he had swallowed, he continued, "Why is that?"

"Well...Hermione is studying in France - she said something about Advanced Arithmancy, but everything else was lost on me-"

Draco snorted. "No surprise there," he muttered under his breath.

"And Harry," Weasley continued as if Draco had not said anything, "is taking a vacation. Somewhere. With someone."

Draco raised an eyebrow at that information, but did not comment about it. He had no desire to know who Potter was shagging. "So... They abandoned you?" _That still does not explain what he was doing on my lawn._

Shaking his head, Weasley took a big bite of food. "No," he said, still chewing. "Not abandoned. Harry deserves a break-" swallow - "after everything he's been though. And Hermione loves studying. Even if I don't understand what she talks about anymore."

Deciding that if Weasley did stay, he would have to be taught proper table etiquette, Draco shrugged. "So, what was it that led you to fall asleep on my property?" he asked.

Throwing his hands into the air, Weasley exclaimed, "Do you always have to be this...Arg!"

"Determined?" Draco offered, carefully placing his fork on the correct side of his plate, making a big deal of it since _Weasley_ did not. "I simply think it is fair for me to have an explanation."

"Okay, fine," Weasley answered. "I accidentally apparated here and hit my head on the tree. So I was unconscious. And you happened by and...woke me up."

Rolling his eyes, Draco took a sip of his drink. "Now, Weasley, I'm not so vapid as to accept that as the truth."

"Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But you said you wanted an explanation. I gave you one." Weasley stuck out his chin stubbornly, clamped his lips tight shut, and dared Draco with his eyes to ask for more information.

"I would stick around and pry more from you, Weasley, but I have papers to look through," Draco announced as he sat his goblet on the table and stood. "You can...amuse yourself while I'm gone."

"I'm not going to stay!" Weasley exclaimed hastily.

"Do you have anywhere else to go?" Draco asked sharply.

Shoulders sagging, the redhead clenched his fists. "Fine, whatever. Is there something I can do?" From the way his eyes flitted about the room, he _had_ heard - or seen - what had happened to the mansion. And he was offering to help. Maybe pigs _could_ sprout wings and fly.

"Find Eakley. He's the house-elf in charge of the renovation process. He can find you something to...fill your time." Nodding slightly, Draco left the room, feeling hot eyes on his back until he rounded the corner.

At least this time he was not sporting a hard-on, but... Draco's mouth quirked slightly, wondering what Ron would think of the work he was sure to be given. At least a Weasley would not throw a fit at having to do something nasty, considering the state of the house they were raised in.

More importantly, he had spent all breakfast with the damned boy and all he received was the most ridiculous explanation he had ever heard. That was so idiotic it had to be untrue. Who would _apparate_ somewhere and knock themselves unconscious in the process? And accidental apparation? He had to admit that if _anyone_ could manage it, that person would be a Weasley. Or a Gryffindor. And Ron happened to be both.

He would deal with that later. For now he had heaps of paperwork, letters to answer... Being _the_ Mr. Malfoy was a pain in the arse sometimes.

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Fin Part Two! 

Well. Well, well. So...I'm still thinking one more chapter, then _maybe_ an epilogue, depending on what you all decide after reading what I have to say in chapter three. So...give me reviews 'cause they make me happy. . And don't forget to come back for the third part! (Like I'd let you forget, anyway! ::grins:: Especially if you're on one of the R/D lists!)


	3. Chapter Three

**Title:** That Sly, Summer Wind (3/?)

**Author:** Semirhage

**Rating:** R for...well, you'll see

**Warnings:** SLASH! Woohoo! And...Draco, since we all know he needs his own warning. P

**Spoilers:** All five books

**Pairing:** Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley

**Disclaimer:** You know I don't own them, because if I did DM/RW and SS/HP would be canon.

**Summary:** Draco wakes up one morning to the wind beating at his window. When he looks upon his lawn, what does he see but a familiar red-haired figure? Slash, DracoRon

**Author's Notes:** All right. So here's the deal. I was planning on making this a three chapter fic, but that is definitely not going to happen. I decided I'd rather take some extra time to work things out completely...and even work on side plots/issues. Hope I don't scare away any reviewers with some ideas I have in mind for the next couple of chapters. Once again, tell me what you think. I'm always open to suggestions on what I should consider working on, etc. etc. There were some parts of this chapter I was not certain about, several things I ended up editing...but I love the character interaction. ) Oh, and thanks to everyone who has egged me on with reviews! I probably wouldn't be posting this chapter if it weren't for you guys! I really am horrible about getting things done, and the only thing that motivates me is knowing that someone wants to know what's going to happen (since I already have it all figured out in my head ::winks::).

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Several hours after leaving Weasley, Draco found himself staring at a page full of charts and figures that all kept blending together. His stack of paperwork was _larger_ than when he had started, and worse, Weasley was the reason he had not been able to make any progress. Slapping the parchment to the desk, Draco leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Nothing had been going right since Weasley had appeared. He could always get caught up on his paperwork -- no, it was the fact that he was obsessing over the other young man what truly disturbed him. The desire to know what had happened to Weasley consumed him until he found himself fabricating wild possibilities, all of which he dismissed as being completely impossible. 

On top of the fact that he still had no idea what Weasley had been doing on his lawn, Draco had a meeting with some idiot from the Ministry in fifteen minutes. His eyes found one of the numerous portraits lining the wall, and he sighed. "Sometimes, Father, I just don't think I'm cut out for this... Why can't they just accept that everything's gone? Why do they keep coming back?" He would never understand the way the minds of those idiots worked.

Snapping his fingers, Draco yelled, "Eakley!" He needed to make sure tea and biscuits were being prepared...and to change his clothes into something appropriate to greet his "guest" in.

With a pop, the house-elf appeared. "Yes, Master Draco?" he asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot, each time managing to look like he was about to fall over.

"We're having a guest in quarter of an hour, so make sure fresh tea will be ready along with warm biscuits," he said grimly. _Wouldn't want to disappoint whatever sod they sent to check up on me..._ He stood from his chair, then said, "If you need me, I'll be in my rooms. And make sure Weasley stays out of the way and out of trouble."

Nodding, Eakley said, "Yes, Master Draco!" He offered Draco an enthusiastic smile before vanishing.

Sighing, Draco walked from the room and headed up the staircase. He had the perfect robe in mind -- deep, velvety green with elaborate silver embroidery (Slytherin colours, of course). A wry smile twisted his lips. The representative would not expect anything less, would he?

Not a second less than fifteen minutes later, Draco returned to his office and sat at his desk. As he settled in, he could hear Eakley's voice asking the visitor to follow him.

Tapping his fingers on the solid wood, Draco wondered what Weasley was amusing himself with. Maybe he was scrubbing floors -- that seemed a befitting task for a Weasley. More than likely, he had gotten himself lost somewhere and was shut up in a hidden room (which, thanks to the Ministry, most of which were not quite so hidden anymore). After this meeting was over, he should look for the young man -- perhaps make him take a shower. After all, he had been dreadfully dirty the last time Draco had laid eyes on him. Plus, showers led to a discarding of clothes, which then led to the revealing of a body. _Wonder what Weasley would look like naked,_ Draco mused, eyes narrowed thoughtfully. _Probably pale, covered in freckles... Long legs - _

A sudden, horrifyingly familiar voice interrupted Draco's train of thoughts: "Draco Malfoy? Well, it's been awhile." Draco found his gaze attracted to the speaker's face, from lips that were slightly quirked, to brilliant eyes that were twinkling, and an unmistakable scar that was half-hidden by messy bangs.

With a sneer, Draco jumped to his feet, his chair rolling backwards. "Potter," he scowled. "What are _you_ doing here?" As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. Why else would Potter be at his house?

Shrugging, Potter let his gaze wander over the walls. Draco noticed that his eyes particularly lingered over the portrait of Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's deceased mother. Finally, he returned his attention to Draco. "As soon as I got back to the Ministry today, they told me I had a job to do and sent me here." He laughed dryly. "Suppose they thought the _great Harry Potter_ could find what no other Auror could. You wouldn't have something to drink, would you? I'm parched."

"Of course," Draco replied stiffly, still stunned. _Hadn't Weasley said he was on vacation? Wouldn't Potter have told him if he was returning soon?_ Instead of voicing any of his thoughts, Draco turned to the house-elf who was shifting his weight from foot to foot again. "Eakley, would you mind serving the tea outside on the balcony?" After the house-elf had left, Draco turned to Potter. "It's the most hospitable place I've got at the moment." Somehow, he felt inadequate standing next to Harry Potter, who must have a very spacious and grand home -- most likely thanks to the Ministry. (Draco had read in the _Daily Prophet_ that Potter had been awarded a very gracious sum for his contributions to the "Cause".) If Potter had been hero-worshipped before, he was practically considered a god now. Everybody else who helped out, like Draco and Severus Snape, got pushed aside and ignored -- although if they had been convicted of being Death Eaters, Draco was sure they would have received more than enough publicity.

"Oh, I don't mind," Potter said. "Truthfully, I'd rather be outside...it's a nice day. And I'm sure my assignments won't be as ... well, relaxing as this one." He paused for a moment, then sighed. "Look, after the war, I didn't get the opportunity to-"

"Save it, Potter," Draco snapped. "You suddenly show back up and think you can make everything right again? Perfect Potter, all he has to do is touch something and it turns to gold."

"Funny," Potter returned, voice soft, "I always thought everything I touched was going to turn to ash."

Taking a deep breath, Draco forced himself to relax and his fists to unclench. "I'm not going to suddenly start being buddy-buddy with you, Potter," he finally said. "But I don't despise you anymore. Not after the war and...everything I - we've all been through."

A surprised look flashed across Potter's face, quickly followed by a delighted smile. "I'm glad you feel that way. After all, we _did_ fight together. And thanks for blocking that one hex. Don't know how I would've gotten that shot at Voldemort if my legs were wobbling crazy."

"Sure, no problem," Draco said. "And, umm...you too. For...you know."

A boyish laugh filled the room and Potter replied, "Yeah. Of course, Malfoy."

A pop resounded in the room and a squeak announced the arrival of Eakley. "Tea and biscuits have been served, Master Draco."

"Biscuits?" Potter grinned. "Brill! I'm rather hungry as well."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Listen, Potter, would you rather go ahead and get the inspection over with or-"

"I don't want to see your house, Malfoy," Potter said flatly, eyes narrowed. He paused for a second, then continued, "Well, as an auror, anyway. Now, if you wanted to give me a tour, on the other hand, I always wanted to know what the Malfoy mansion looked like on the inside."

Draco had to stop himself from rolling his eyes again. No _wonder_ Potter and Weasley were best friends -- they were both _idiots_! "Sorry, Potter, but it's not much to look at right now. You'll just have to wait until the renovation's complete."

"Ah...so no sneak peaks?"

"No." Draco motioned for Potter to follow him, then left the room, heading up a flight of stairs, then into a foyer that would lead them to the balcony. Opening the door, Draco motioned for the other man to step out. "It's the best view for miles," he said, watching as Potter walked to the rail and leaned on it. "What do you like in your tea?"

"Two lumps of sugar and cream, please," Potter replied instantly; it was obvious that he had done this often lately. "You're right," he said softly. "This view is beautiful." He turned and grinned slyly at Draco. "Right here...under the stars...would be the perfect place to propose to someone."

"Never knew you were a romantic, Potter," Draco said, wondering _how_ people dealt with him. In some ways, he was more intolerable than Weasley. _Of course, Weasley makes up for his insufferableness by --_ _No, there is _nothing_ good about him! Nothing._

"Guess I've just been thinking about that a lot lately..." While he spoke, Potter's eyes were distant, as if he was thinking about being somewhere else...with someone else?

"Then why don't you just ask the whoever the hell it is. Don't know why you Gryffindors have to make a bloody big deal about everything. If you want to get married, just bloody go ahead and do it instead of moping." Carefully, Draco fixed Potter's tea, adding an exact two lumps and stirring in some cream.

"You're probably right," Potter said, walking towards the elegant table. He carefully pulled the chair out and sat down gracefully, folding his hands in his lap.

Watching Potter with an unbelieving stare, Draco shook his head. "Where did _you_ learn manners? Finally get taught proper etiquette while you were out vacationing? I suppose if I were dating you, I wouldn't take you out anywhere in public until you could eat properly, either. You should really help your friend, though. He has the table manners of a dog."

"Have you seen Ron lately?" Potter suddenly asked, eyes filling with curiosity. "How was he? After the breakup, I thought for sure he was going to shut himself up and-" Suddenly, he stopped, eyes widening.

Dropping his spoon, Draco stared at Potter. Breakup? Potter could not possibly mean that he and Weasley had been No way. "What are you talking about, Potter?" He sat down hastily, wondering if there was any way he could get the information he wanted from the other young man.

"I...promised I wouldn't say anything," Potter mumbled. "Besides, why would you care? Even if you did see him, I guess you didn't pay much attention - well, besides to think about his lack of table manners."

Draco narrowed his eyes. Should he tell Potter that Weasley was here? Most likely, he would jump to his feet and go looking for him. No, he wanted information, and that was not the best way to go about getting it. "I happened to see him recently and he looked...out of it. I thought it might have been a result of his vapid mind."

Potter's eyes widened as Draco talked, then his eyebrows furrowed in worry. "I knew something was wrong... He'd told me they had gotten back together and that everything was fine. I should have done something...I had a bad feeling at the time, but..." He cursed vehemently, slamming his palm down on the table.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco asked, "What do you mean 'you knew something was wrong'? You _knew_ and you didn't do anything about it?" Perhaps if he aimed at Potter's sense of guilt, he would reveal more information. Draco was certainly not concerned about Weasley; it was all a part of the act.

Sliding his hands off the table, Potter stared at his lap. "I had a chance to meet his...significant other before I left England. I didn't like h- We didn't get along at all. I always felt there was something wrong in this person's-"

"Merlin, Potter!" Draco exclaimed. "I already know by now, from the way you've been sidestepping all pronouns, that Weasley was with a guy." As soon the words had left his mouth, Draco realised what he had said. Weasley had been with a guy, so that meant he had to be attracted to men. _Which means absolutely nothing to me. Why should I care if Weasley prefers blokes?_

"Oh..." Potter looked up, his face crestfallen. "Yeah. I...so...I left anyway, even though I didn't feel right since Ron was still with h-him. But I couldn't say anything to change his mind. We even had a row because of it one time. After that, we...didn't really talk about it. I mean, I tried to, but he just wouldn't listen."

_But what could this possibly have to do with Weasley waking up on my lawn...unless..._ Draco took a sip of his tea, motioning for Potter to do the same. "So, did you ever get the impression that he might have been abusing Weasley?" Potter cringed; Draco felt proud that he did not, yet at the same time he _felt_ like cringing. _How could someone abuse a person like Weasley? He's so passionate and full of life...so carefree._

Potter raised the cup towards his face, then frowned into the drink. "Abuse...? No. No way...Ron wouldn't let something like that happen. I just never felt they were emotionally right for each other...they seemed to clash too much. And there was something about that guy I just didn't like." His fingers visibly tightened on the porcelain china, then he seemed to remember what he was holding and gingerly sat it back down on the table. His eyes flitted from the cup to the railing to anything but Draco. "I haven't even contacted him in...so long. And seen...not since the beginning of the summer. I should see how he's doing...what he's up to." Without further ado, Potter stood up, unbalancing the chair and nearly causing it to topple over. "Sorry, but I..." He looked devastated, one hand raking through his hair.

_Bloody Gryffindors,_ Draco thought. "Listen, Potter, I'm sure he's _alive_." Draco thought quickly, wondering if there was any way he could coax anything else out of Potter. He had not meant to get him so upset that he could not live with himself until he found Weasley.

"Sorry, Malfoy. I really had meant to stay and drink some tea and have biscuits, but... Ron..." He looked towards the blonde, his eyes entreating Draco to understand his dilemma.

"Fine, whatever," Draco snapped. "I didn't want you here in the first place, remember?"

"Thanks," Potter said, rushing back inside.

Draco opened his mouth, then shut it with an audible click. A smirk crossed his face. _Wonder what he'll do when he discovers Weasley isn't...where ever he usually stays._ Abruptly, the smirk vanished. _Weasley's here._ Hoping that Potter made it out without spotting the redhead - or the other way around - Draco hurried after Potter, attempting to look somewhat dignified as he took to the steps two at a time.

He burst into the main foyer to see Potter standing by the door. Quickly, Draco looked around. No Weasley. He sighed.

"Something...wrong, Malfoy?" Potter asked.

"No," Draco replied smoothly. "Something wrong with _you_, Potter?"

The other man turned towards the door, frowning. "Well...every time I reach for the doorknob, it moves." He turned back towards Draco, face incredulous. As if to show Draco that he was telling the truth, Potter reached for the doorknob, only to have it zip away to another part of the door.

Rolling his eyes, Draco stepped forward and poked a hole where the doorknob was supposed to stay. Without any hesitation, the door swung open. "The magic in the house manifested in...odd places when the house was invaded. I haven't fixed it yet, and didn't think to tell you because Eakley and I are the only ones who use it...and we both know how to work the door."

A wry smile spread across Potter's face. "Sure you didn't do it just as a humorous prank on some poor Ministry official?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. A door opened, most likely admitting Eakley to ask why they had not finished their tea and biscuits. "Wouldn't put it past you, Mal-"

Draco frowned at Potter, wondering what had caused him to stop speaking, then remembered that the door had opened. Eakley never used doors; he could just apparate into a room, so why would he have used the door?

Closing his eyes, Draco sighed. _Great..._

At the same time, the two Gryffindors exclaimed each other's name. Fearing he would be caught in the middle of a crushing hug, Draco quickly sidestepped and turned in time to see the two men rushing towards each other, and then there was that famed Gryffindor hug. Next, Draco prepared himself for the long stream of questions they were likely to throw at each other; once again, he was proven right.

"You didn't tell me you were coming back, Harry! When'd you get back?"

"I'm sorry I haven't written you in a while, Ron...how have you been?"

"Where are you staying now? Did you finally get an flat?"

"Ron, I..."

"How are things going with you and your summer lover, huh?"

"...I...need to talk to you..."

"Bet you had all kinds of sex in all kinds of places. Did you do it in a public place?"

"Eww! Gross!" Draco exclaimed, effectively cutting off both of their chatting. "I did not need that mental image! My mind is going to be stained forever. Eew, naked Potter."

Green eyes glared at him. "I could say the same for you, Malfoy."

"Erm..." Ron glanced nervously between Draco and his best friend.

"Listen. If you two want to talk, why don't you head back to the balcony," Draco drawled. "Potter, you know the way. Weasley, don't break anything. I'll have Eakley bring up another cup for you. As for me, I've suddenly developed a headache thanks to your mindless tirade of questions. Talk all you want, then find me in my office." With that, Draco swiftly strode from the room. Was he really going to get a potion? Yes, of course he was, his head really was starting to ache. Was he going to his office? No; like any true Slytherin, he was going to use this opportunity to get information about what was happening with Weasley. If they thought he was not going to be joining them for tea, they would be more likely to talk freely. Well, as freely as they could in a Malfoy mansion. If they thought of that, anyway.

Smirking, Draco summoned Eakley, then told him what to do. Before long, he would know what was wrong with Weasley, and then he would be able to get rid of him. He would, too. He did not _want_ the idiot around; he just wanted to satiate his curiosity before making him leave. He was a Malfoy, and therefore was not dependant on any emotion or person. Well...maybe he would keep him around long enough to have a shag, but after that he was gone. Well...perhaps two, but only if he proved up to par.

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end chapter three... Stay tuned for the next installment. ) 


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